


Let's Be Honest

by hearts_kun



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, Romance, a bit awkward and very very gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 15:51:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18144257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_kun/pseuds/hearts_kun
Summary: Miku isn't supposed to know her name, isn't supposed to look her way... And yet the only thing on Miku's mind is Luka, a stranger she meets at a small café.[My work for Love Song zine: find it at@LSVocaloidZine.]





	Let's Be Honest

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the [Let's Be Honest](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_0LtHe0H6ZE) song.

They meet at a small café near their uni: most people are talking peacefully, slurping their coffees; Kaito is tugging at Miku’s sleeve, pointing at the new menu, but she can’t quite concentrate; some anime theme is playing on the background, but it’s too quiet to make out the words. Luka is looking through her phone, standing in the line to the cashier with them. Miku isn’t supposed to know her name, really, but she hears her companion call “Luka, Luka”, trying to get her attention, and figures that must be it.

As Luka looks up from her phone, answering with a smile, Miku feels something toss and turn inside her.

 _”She’s too soft. Too carefree,”_ Miku thinks, but she doesn’t get a moment to explain these thoughts to herself, because suddenly their eyes meet, and the only thing left is to pretend she was talking to Kaito all along and definitely wasn’t staring at this beautiful girl right there. No, ma’am, not at all.

She revises all of this later, at home, feeling conflicted and… shy? Through endless moments of struggle, she finally admits to herself that Luka has an amazing fashion sense, probably the best in the world; that the way her hair flow around her shoulders is breathtaking; and that the slightly noticeable mascara highlights her eyes like magic.

For long, long hours, Miku’s thoughts revolve around Luka, noting more of her perfect features. A weird feeling rests in her stomach, twisting inside, but not with envy — with something else.

That night, when Miku finally falls asleep, Luka, a perfect stranger met in an average-looking café at an average-looking day, is the last thing she sees.

***

It’s almost unbelievable, how all of this happens, but a week later they meet again, at the same place. Kaito runs away after a helpless attempt to flirt, says he’s busy or something, and she stays. Because it’s Friday, and because she can see Luka at the end of the line, alone; and because there are no free chairs besides the only one next to Miku. And maybe, just maybe, Luka is the talkative type. Because Miku really wants to know if they study at the same place.

Luka takes her strawberry milkshake and looks around, trying to find a place. Miku waves a hand at her. She bites her lips in doubt, unsure of what she’s doing, and then, when everything goes smoothly she ends up surprised. Because, well… Miku never knew she could turn into such a mess in front of someone.

They spend maybe half an hour talking about all kinds of things. When time comes, Luka leaves Miku her social media. Miku forgets to ask if they really study together. Luka walks out of the café and smiles for the last time at the exist.

Her smile feels like a magic spell, and Miku squirms in one place. She feels so lost in these beautiful smiles.

When she gathers herself and takes the bus home, a more real Luka is on her mind. Luka that is hard and sharp as a gemstone. Luka that, under all the pastel tones and gracious movements, hides a complex personality and strong opinions. Luka that radiates perfection and, at the same time, accepts her own weaknesses. To Miku, she _shines_.

She messages Luka as soon as she gets home, “Hey, wanna hang out tomorrow?”

“Sure. Evening would be alright?”

Evening turns to be alright with Miku. In fact, anything is alright if it’s Luka, even though Miku doesn’t understand why.

She’s an interesting person, Miku thinks, but the explanation feels fake.

She spends the day slightly anxious about tomorrow, but when tomorrow comes, also comes the confidence. And with it come more days. More weeks. Suddenly, before Miku even realizes, time starts running, and she is dragged into a new, bright routine in which Luka is a constant.

Miku doesn’t know how that happens, but she likes it.

A few months of constant chatting really make them close. Miku beams at Luka’s morning selfies and carefully stores them in a separate folder, and Luka just can’t stop complimenting Miku’s voice. Since that first time, they hang out a lot, and Miku learns that Luka likes spending time in quiet places, studying, and sewing. Miku shares, on her side, her love to music, and poetry, and sometimes baking. They even go to her place once, and Miku takes her guitar and plays something new of her own, and Luka cries a little and says it’s alright, and that she’s happy and she loves it. Miku blushes deeply and doesn’t question it.

Even more often than hang out, though, they text each other, swaying from long meaningful conversations to endless rounds of one-word messages. They notice at some point, they have a similar writing style, at least when chatting, and sometimes Miku stops and thinks how surreal that is, because they’re so, so different in reality. But she likes this little detail. Something small they share. She likes sharing things with Luka, she admits to herself. She feels like it’s inspiring her.

It’s a warm, soft feeling. It’s not something friends usually feel, Miku figures, but she doesn’t think of it as weird anymore. After months of unusual feelings, she accepts it as something natural. She starts thinking of new possibilities. Avoiding new words for now, she begins to understand. The understanding dawns on her with its inevitability, but it doesn’t seem scary yet.

It happens when she least expects it, though.

It’s summer, the grass under their backs is soft and green, almost painfully so. Tree crones are hiding them from the sun, and Luka is looking through her notebook, her gaze unfocused, her lips forming words that Miku cannot hear.

Miku’s own notebook is still in her bag, and she can’t care enough to take it out, because she knows: today, she wants to watch Luka as long as she can. It’s a solid wish following her since morning, but she’s not doubting or resisting it. It feels almost like a part of her character, or as if she was born that way. Like there’s always been Luka, her calming breath, her adorable heavy-thinker frown. It’s not much different from what Miku felt when they first caught a glimpse of each other, except now it’s deeper, more profound. They know each other for half a year already, and Miku thinks…

“Uhm,” Luka interrupts her, and for the first time she seems shy, “want to hear something I wrote? It’s a poem.”

Miku stares at her, then nods, nods many times. Of course, she wants to hear it. Only a thought of something as personal as one of the first poems (and she knows it is, remembers Luka taking about it) makes her tremble inside.

Luka starts reading. It’s a tale about a bee and a flower. It’s longer than Miku expects; it’s cheesy, and the rhymes are rough, as if spitted on paper, but through this roughness — there’s honesty and ease, and tiny bits of uncertainty that are quickly outgrown by this immense confidence that Luka herself is.

When she finishes, Miku touches her hand and swallows.

“It’s beautiful,” she says and immediately realizes that words don’t describe how she feels now. Not these words; none of the words she can say out loud. She squeezes her hand around Luka’s, nods and says it again, “It’s so beautiful…”

Luka laughs and smiles, and puts the notebook away, and hugs Miku so tightly and happily. As Miku feels her soft chest rising with every ragged breath, everything she can think about is, _”I’m gay. I must be gay.”_

***

Till the next day, Miku slows down on all the chatting. She needs space. Her hands constantly itch with the desire to touch Luka: hug her, hold her hand, kiss her lips just for a second. She wants to be near, to feel happiness and fulfillment, to tremble again as Luka reads her first clumsy but painfully genuine poems. But there’s something else. A fear.

Miku doesn’t want to admit it at first, but once she finally does, she sees it all too well. All the potential failures, confessions that go wrong, awkward kisses that are unwanted. She feels so much: so much love and so much fear — that it overwhelms her, doesn’t let her breathe.

Her phone vibrates with another worried message from Luka, and she hastily types “brb” as a half-hearted reply. She doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t want to ruin their friendship, but also _friendship_ is the last thing she wants.

Her lips are all bitten by the end of the day, she has tried everything: googling, reading books, asking Kaito, but nothing makes sense, and she doesn’t know how to face tomorrow.

Tomorrow faces her on itself, though, with Luka’s face at uni’s hallway. That face is darkened by worry but lightens up when their eyes meet.

“Oh god, Miku,” Luka says, running to her and intertwining their fingers.

“Are you okay?” Luka says, allowing their foreheads to touch.

Miku breathes in through the nose, out through the mouth, closes her eyes and tries to calm the seas that rise inside of her, because just a bit more, just a tiny bit, and it will flow out of her in tears, laughs and awkward glances. She pulls one hand away and clenches fist, trying to get ahold of herself. Her eyes wander somewhere down, and for a moment she just stares at their feet: hers, in light summer sandals, and Luka’s, in massive but fashionable thin spring boots.

Strangely, she expects Luka to be mad at her, to be anxious like Miku herself is, but Luka is just smiling confidently, still holding one of her hands, their fingers intertwined. It feels soft, warm, and safe. Miku allows herself to smile back. She thinks, maybe it’s the right time to confess now — but fear is holding her back. She opens her mouth, only to close it again, when suddenly Luka asks:

“You know what my poem was about?”

Miku stutters, “A… flower and a bee?”

Luka nods. “And the love between them.”

Miku doesn’t know what to say. It feels as if Luka is trying to tell her something, but the poem metaphor is so out of place…

Luka brings their intertwined hands closer to her face, and Miku feels her breath touching her palm.

“Miku. Tell me… Just be honest. You felt that, right? You feel it now, too.”

It’s not so much a question as it’s a statement, and Miku doesn’t find words to object. “Be honest”, Luka says, but if Miku is honest, she has to admit, she is terrified, and she doesn’t want to answer right away, and she wanted to be the one who confesses first, and she feels so endlessly dumb for not catching on the hints yesterday that her face is probably on fire. She doesn’t find words to object, but neither does she find words to agree. All she can muster is a tiny nod.

Luka slowly lets go of her hand, but doesn’t break the eye contact. The proximity between them seems to grow, even though they’re not moving.

“I love you,” Luka whispers, and Miku feels her whole body turn hot and cold. Her lips are shivering. She silently leans into Luka’s arms and breathes in, smelling vague scent of her perfume. Luka wraps self around her and presses her lips against Miku’s forehead, dry and soft.

Miku wants to take it slow, Miku wants to run away and think again, but Luka’s arms are holding her with such tenderness that she doesn’t dare to move. Yes, she needs to think, she needs to take her space again and gather courage, but there are no doubts deep inside her anymore. Even if she can’t say it now, she’ll definitely say it later.

She’ll say that she loves Luka Megurine. And at that moment, she’ll be completely honest.


End file.
